Oops
by sarajm
Summary: Merlin hopes that a new spell will make his job a little bit easier.


This was meant to be a drabble for the 'Magic gone Awry' challenge on Heart of Camelot, but I was having too much fun to stop at 400 words. It's set very early in Season 1.

 **A/N** Thanks to beta LyricalSinger and also big thanks to LFB72 for the fantastic cover art. She has also created a picture for one of the scenes in this - if you want to see it, please check out the story on Heart of Camelot or in her Art Forum on the same site.

* * *

 **Oops**

Merlin didn't bother to hide his grumbling as he slapped his brush into the cold water, spraying drops all over the floor and getting more than a few on his pants and jacket.

He was certain he'd done more scrubbing in the three months since coming to Camelot than in his entire _life_ before then. It almost, _almost_ made him wish for the dirt floors of his old home. He'd had to sweep up and replace the straw from time to time, but not every _day._ And….and… did Arthur go out of his _way_ to track mud into every last bit of every room?

Merlin sighed and fished the brush out of his bucket again, giving it a shake before bending to his task once more.

He'd done almost half of the room when Arthur arrived, fresh from weapons practice. "Merlin, are you not finished that yet?" the Prince asked.

Merlin sat back on his knees, mouth agape with disbelief. "No, and I'm never _going_ to, am I?" he complained. "Not with you doing that!" he said accusingly, pointing at the muddy footprints leading from the door to where Arthur now stood.

The Prince looked at the trail behind him and grinned, not the least bit apologetic. "Well, what do you expect? It rained all day yesterday, so it was muddy in the training field." Stripping off his gloves the Prince dropped them on the floor beside his servant. "Which means, you'll also need to polish these again," Arthur said.

"Yes, Sire," the young servant bit off, purposely avoiding Arthur's grin.

Merlin sighed and picked up the gloves by their edges, and carried them over to the bench beside the fireplace. After he crossly laid them down, he turned, being sure to keep his back toward Arthur. Unfortunately, it only served to bring the rest of the room into view. Merlin shook his head in disgust; it was as if all of the work he'd done that morning had been for nothing.

He headed back towards his bucket, dearly wishing that he knew of a spell that would make cleaning the mud easier. He'd often magically animated his scrubbing brush when cleaning his own room, but that was too risky to do in the Prince's chambers even when Arthur was not there.

Suddenly he stopped, the beginnings of an idea forming in his head. There was this one spell he'd read about just the week before – it caused knots to untie themselves by loosening the tension so that the rope could just slip free. He just might be able to rework it so that mud would not stick to the floors.

Yes, the more he turned the idea over and played with the wording in his mind, the more he was sure it would work and he became excited to try it out. A quick flash of gold eyes later and a small hint of steam soon rose from a tiny spot on the floor just near the bath; the only indication of the spell just cast there.

* * *

As he knelt and continued with his thankless task, Merlin kept a half an eye on Arthur, watching as the Prince moved about the room.

The Prince first crossed over to his desk to read a report and once he'd finished it, he pushed it to the side and walked over to his table, retrieving his goblet of wine. After taking a sip Arthur headed back to look out the window again for a few moments, and after that, headed towards his mirror.

As time went by Merlin found himself catching his breath in anticipation any time Arthur got anywhere near the enchanted bit of floor only to sigh as the Prince moved away yet again without stepping on it. The servant started to think he would _never_ be able to test his incantation.

Finally though, the Prince put down his goblet and began to make his way toward where Merlin was kneeling, still scrubbing away at the floor. The young servant had to prevent himself from crying out with excitement when Arthur _finally_ stepped directly on one of the enchanted tiles, leaving behind a muddy print.

Merlin eagerly reached over and passed his scrubbing brush lightly over the new dirt, and just as he'd hoped, the muck came off with almost no effort. It left him practically giddy with the dream of applying his new no-stick spell to a larger area, No, to the whole _room_ ; or…or…, why not the whole _castle?_

Sitting back on his heels, Merlin smiled broadly at his success. He also quickly realized that his enthusiasm was getting away from him and that the wisest thing to do next would be to try it on a slightly larger area of Arthur's floor.

"What are you grinning at?" Arthur asked, "You look like even more of an idiot than usual!"

"Nothing Sire," said Merlin, still smiling. "Cleaning makes me happy, is all," he added, ignoring Arthur's raised eyebrows and the look of pure disbelief that the Prince fixed on him.

" _Riiiiiight_ ," the Prince answered, "Well sorry to have to disappoint you, but you need to stop your cleaning for now, because I'd like to have a bath," he said.

Merlin rose to his feet, still smiling, "I guess I can pull myself away long enough to fetch the water, Sire."

* * *

As he filled the bath, Merlin looked about the room trying to work out where to try his spell next. He finally decided that the best place was the area just near the bath. Arthur would be tracking lots of mud there shortly, since he'd want to sit on the nearby bench to have his boots removed before he got undressed.

Once he'd cast the spell, Merlin looked across the room to where Arthur had gone back to work on his reports. "There, your bath is all ready," the young servant called out.

"It's about time," said Arthur, setting aside his papers with a sigh of relief. "I'll be glad to get clean, Merlin," he admitted. "It was not just my boots and gauntlets that got covered with mud. I think I've even got some in my ears!"

Merlin looked up in surprise, feeling a bit guilty that he had not noticed Arthur's state earlier, having been so fixated on the floors. "Well, hurry over and we'll soon get you sorted, Sire," he said.

Merlin kept close watch as Arthur crossed the room and finally placed first one and then the other foot onto the enchanted tiles. The young warlock wondered if his spell had worked. The floor there certainly did not look any different than in any other part of the room.

Merlin soon had his answer, although it was not at all what he'd been expecting. Unfortunately, as soon as Arthur had put down his second foot, it became painfully clear that it was not just mud that did not stick anymore.

The Prince's eyes widened in alarm as he began to slip. He began to windmill his arms frantically, trying to keep his balance as he skidded. Nothing worked, and to Merlin's horror, Arthur fell right onto his changing screen causing it to collapse. Both Arthur and the broken screen landed on the bench, overturning it in a noisy din that Merlin thought would go on forever.

"Ow," Arthur groaned, clutching at his elbow which was bleeding freely due to a gash that could be seen clearly through his torn shirt.

Merlin rushed over intending to help the Prince but forgot about his enchantment. As a result, he was soon nursing his backside as he ended up right beside the Prince on the floor.

To make matters even worse, the King had been on his way to visit Arthur just then, and rushed in at all the commotion. "What's going on here?" he shouted, striding across to the bath area on seeing his son sprawled on the floor beside it, blood pouring down his arm.

"No, Sire…." Merlin called out, but Uther naturally ignored him. The young warlock cringed as the King stepped onto the enchanted area, knowing exactly what would come next.

As expected, heavy black boots were soon heading into the air, and the King, trying to stop his fall only made it worse. His twisting motion resulted in a spectacular fall right into the middle of the bath; the water surging out and covering the floor in a massive wave. His crown fell from his head somewhere along the way and rolled across the floor until it came to rest by the doorway with a loud clank.

Merlin gaped in shock for a moment before leaping up and rushing over to grasp Uther's hand, silently helping him stand and get, dripping, out of the tub.

"I'd better get Gaius," the young servant said, and at Uther's angry nod, Merlin rushed as fast as he could out of the chambers, removing his spell from the floor as he ran.

* * *

Merlin stood by, biting his lip while Gaius checked Arthur over, but the physician soon had Arthur's arm bandaged and pronounced the Prince otherwise unharmed.

To Merlin's relief, Uther stayed only long enough to be sure his son was fine, saying that he preferred to change out of his wet clothes in the privacy of his own rooms.

Once he'd closed the door behind the King, Merlin returned to where Gaius was making some last minute adjustments to Arthur's bandage.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur, I must have used the wrong soap," Merlin said hesitantly as the Prince was stretching out his arm and testing his grip by opening and closing his hand.

Somewhat to Merlin's surprise, rather than reprimand him, Arthur began to chuckle, "Well, it was an accident," he said. "And…watching my father end up in the bathtub was the funniest thing I've seen in quite a while." The Prince quickly turned serious, "Just be sure it does not happen again, Merlin. You are very lucky the King did not think to blame you."

Merlin gave a shudder at the thought and then caught sight of Gaius.

The Physician's glare promised Merlin that although Uther may not have blamed him, his mentor had known _exactly_ what type of _soap_ his ward had used and that Merlin would certainly be hearing about it. The young warlock gulped and wondered if a punishment from the King might be preferable.

* * *

It was nearing the midnight bell and Merlin didn't bother to hide his grumbling as he slapped his brush into the cold water, spraying drops all over the floor, and getting more than a few on his pants and jacket.

"Gaius, how many times do I need to promise not to use my magic for cleaning before you let me stop scrubbing?" he implored, daring to pause for a moment.

The physician looked up from the herbs he'd decided to grind while supervising his ward's punishment. "I will let you know if that time ever comes," he answered sternly.

"Now, get back to work!"


End file.
